[[A/N: I'm sick again. Well not feverish sick, but I am suffering from my annual bout with a runny nose and sore throat. And because my parents don't seem to believe in—or maybe they just don't know about—any sort of allergy medication, I have to go through Spring like this. I have a feeling I'm pissing off my teachers by using up their tissues (which might I add are way to rough). ]]
[[2nd A/N: Adrian will be in this chapter. Just thought I'd let you know. You may read on. :D]]
[[3rd A/N: The very last section of this chapter will be from a 3rd person POV]]
--
Where Mischa was a graceful swan flying up the stairs in a white party dress, I looked clumsy and ill suited to any sort of hells…I mean heels. Explain to me the difference again?
"Well, what did she say again?" Mischa asked impatiently, waiting for me to bring up the rear of the group.
"Second door on the left," Lissa piped up, nodding towards a black, wooden door. The hallway of the third floor was narrow and unlike the previous two floors in every way. I expected some sort of beautiful, ornate furniture and possibly even a butler or two. To tell you the truth, I was kind of disappointed.
The walls were barren of anything aside from some torn wallpaper. Dirty stools were set up against the walls, looking broken and beaten down. From all the glitz and glam that Amalia wore, I was skeptical about why she would leave so much grime up here.
Adrian moved forward past me to knock on the door.
"Hey wait!" I hissed, grabbing his arm. "Don't go in so easily."
He stiffened underneath my grasp, looking at my hand with an emotionless face. He looked up at me. And for the first time since I met him, it really looked like Adrian hated me. Something inside me broke a tiny bit. I didn't know what it was, but I felt my heart shake with rage and sadness. I wanted to fool myself into thinking I'd given him everything. But in fact, I probably took more than what I'd given him in our entire friendship. Well…what was left of it.
I frowned, trying to look unmoved. "Seriously, move away from the door and let Mischa and me handle this."
Adrian didn't say anything, but he stepped back with Lissa and Christian. I nodded a quick thanks and motioned for Mischa to stand by the other side of the door. I grasped the doorknob.
"1…2…3!" I shouted, kicking in the door. Mischa ran in first, her stake poised at the ready.
"What the flippin' hell is a Guardian doing in here?" a voice asked from inside.
"It's safe, Rose," Mischa reported, peeking outside again.
I sighed a breath of relief. I wasn't expecting Strigoi just to be hiding up here, but I didn't just want to skimp on safety protections.
I beckoned for Lissa, Christian, and Adrian to follow me in. We all filed into the tightly cramped room in a single line. Surprisingly, the room was much larger than the hallway led you to believe.
A tall lamp was set up in the corner, shedding light on the crimson room. A black, leather couch wrapped around the three other walls with a shelf of beer bottles and vodka on the far one. Mischa had broken the center table when she barged in, causing the drinks that rested there to break and drip onto the matted, purple shag carpet. The air practically reeked of alcohol and cigarettes. I bet that Adrian was completely at home.
A middle aged Moroi with black hair lounged on the couch, his feet propped up on a pillow. His skin was pale and green, evidence of hanging on the balance of alcohol poisoning and seizures from overdrinking. His emerald green eyes stared at us critically underneath a full head of black hair. He wore a blue Ed Hardy t-shirt that looked suspiciously stained with something that had covered his entire chest and front jean leg.
"Are you Selim Ivashkov?" I asked uneasily, feeling sick just being in the pigsty.
The man grinned. "What if I am?" he teased. He seemed to be enjoying this; I bet our entry was the most excitement he had all day.
"We have some questions for you," Adrian said flatly. Even he looked disgusted by his cousin's quarters. He shifted from foot to foot, but his eyes drifted eagerly to the bottles of vodka on the shelf.
"Ha, well if it isn't my perfect pet cousin," Selim exclaimed, sitting up slowly. He swayed a little bit, his smile drooping on one side. It was like all Ivashkovs drank like the world was ending.
"You know me?" Adrian asked skeptically.
Selim nodded. "The Queen's favorite little pet is well known to all Ivashkovs, even if you don't know them. As well as the last Dragomir." He reached underneath the couch and pulled out—well can you guess? A bottle of raw vodka. I cringed as he squeezed off the cork and began to chug heavily.
"Pay attention," I snapped.
"I'm all ears, Number One," Selim gasped, swallowing a gulp of air before drinking a large swig again.
"You need to tell us where Robert Doru is," Christian said curtly. "We've come a long way to find him.
"Now, now. What makes you think I know where this Robert fellow is?" Selim chided. I growled. He was clearly toying with us. And let me tell you this: I don't like being played around with…especially by a drunk ass with booze for blood.
Lissa's frustration broke first, a rarity indeed. "Victor Dashkov told us that you were taking care of him." She glared at him angrily. "Tell us where Robert Doru is," she commanded, using her full compulsion. There she went again! I grimaced, feeling my own temper grow darker. It all was happening to quickly. The Lissa from before would never have used compulsion so easily and especially not with so much anger.
Selim's bemused face hardened with anger. "You're trying to compel me, aren't you," he seethed. I couldn't even see Spirit auras like Adrian, but his power was so great I could literally feel him pushing back against Lissa's own magic.
"Wh-Wh-What?" Lissa exclaimed, biting her lip in shock. It was evident to everyone the room that Selim Ivashkov was fighting back against compulsion; and he was winning.
"Holy crap, you're a Spirit user!" Adrian shouted. His eyes widened in surprise. I could see his pupils dart up and down, looking for an invisible golden aura signifying Spirit powers.
"And the jig is up," Selim confessed lazily, shrugging. He sighed. "And here I thought the booze would help."
Mischa held up her hands. "Wait, wait, wait. Spirit?" I groaned. Was it possible she was the only person left from St. Vladimir's that didn't know about Spirit? It'd been pretty clear that everyone knew about Lissa's unique affinity after her little spat with Avery. I guess you don't get beauty and brains after all.
"Please don't make me explain," I groaned.
"I know what Spirit is," Mischa snapped, offended. "But is it really possible to have three Spirit users in the same room?"
"Well of course it is, Number Two," Selim said cheekily, referring to Mischa being the second Guardian in our group. "You take a Spirit User, find another Spirit User, and group them together with a third Spirit user, and viola! You get 3 of them together in one room."
"Smart asses like you get kicked in the groin by feet like mine," Mischa retorted angrily, gesturing towards her stiletto heels.
"Down, girl. I'm not here to make enemies," the Moroi responded lightly. He drank another large gulp. I wondered how it was possible for him to drink so much and still have control over his magic. From what I knew about Adrian and Lissa's experiences with alcohol, the stuff made them magical dead zones.
"Then please tell us where Robert Doru is," I exclaimed exasperatedly. I shook my hands in the air for emphasis. "We don't have time for petty games with drunk royals."
"And yet you play them with my cousin over there," he commented softly.
--I gasped. "What was that?" I demanded, my hand twitching by my stake.
Selim grinned crookedly. "I'll tell you where Doru is, for a price."
My jaw dropped. Just like a royal! Why did I expect anything better from an Ivashkov. Even Adrian had expectations following requests. It was like nothing was free in their minds. I felt like I was dealing with little two year olds again!
"State it," Mischa growled. Her icy eyes were aflame with suppressed fury. I applauded her self-control, but we really didn't have time to bargain with this guy.
"It's a very simple request," Selim simpered. His hand fluttered weakly by his face. "I need you to be absolutely discreet about meeting me."
I snorted. "That's it? No debt for life or a grocery run for more beer or something?"
Selim laughed sharply, making me shudder. "This isn't a joking matter, dear. I'm completely and utterly serious." His eyes bored into mine, and I got the feeling that he was completely serious. It was like the dark bags under his eyes were suddenly sharper and more contrasting with his pale skin. Selim looked tired.
"Okay, we'll keep this a secret," Adrian confirmed. "But why would you want to be so reclusive?" He gestured around the room. "The Ivashkovs have a large family bank. You could be living in the largest New York penthouse if you wanted."
"Maybe I have my own reasons that I'd like to keep from prying little boys with their female harem," Selim snapped, glaring off towards the wall shelf of bottles. His eyes went distant, like he was recalling a past memory.
"I-I-I—" Adrian seemed at a loss for words. I snickered. If you looked at it that way, it was unusual that two female Guardians were his protection.
Selim sighed. "Save it, Adrian." He ran a hand through his hair, pulling out several black hairs in the process. He looked down at his lap and then back at us. "What I'm about to say to you cannot leave this room. And it absolutely cannot reach the Queen's attention."
I tapped my foot loudly. "Enough with the drama. Just tell us."
"Maybe if you toned down the teenage rebellion, then I could tell you faster."
"Thanks for that, old man." Wow, I hadn't met such a sarcastic, black-humored man before.
"Number Two was on to something when she wondered about the chances of having 3 Spirit Users together," Selim started.
"I was?" "She was?" we all asked in unison.
Selim nodded. "I've known about my Spirit powers since I was thirteen years old. And I'm forty-one now. In almost thirty decades, I've met fifty-seven individual Moroi with Spirit, not including you two. I have heard of at least twenty others from these various acquaintances." Selim smiled calmly, juxtaposing the fact that we were all glued to our feet in wonder and anticipation. "Do you think that is all coincidence?
I shook my head, because after 18 years of having teachers ask similar "Do you think this?" questions, I knew what the expected answer was.
"Exactly!" Selim shouted, making us jump. "I've come up with a theory: Spirit users are inherently drawn to each other."
A year ago, I would've said, "Bullshit" or something of the sort. But Selim's explanation made sense right now. If Spirit was supposed to be some unknown, rare element that was secret to the Moroi world, then how was it that we kept meeting more people who had it?
"Continue," Lissa whispered. She and Adrian seemed entranced in their spots.
Selim cleared his throat and began to speak again. "Like I said, I've met a lot of Spirit users. And we know things. A thin thread connects us all to each other, so to speak. That's how I met my wife, Vera."
"You're wife?" Christian asked doubtfully. "You don't seem like a married guy to me."
"Thanks for that, boy," Selim retorted. "But yes, I had a wife. Her name was Vera Drozdov. And she was also a Spirit user. Coincidence my ass. I met her because I was drawn to her by our powers."
"That's incredible," Adrian whispered. He looked at Lissa with a new curiosity. "And that would explain why I was drawn to you." A twinge of jealousy flared up inside my belly. I wanted it to be me who he admiring. Out of the corner of my eye, I could tell Christian also felt a little jealousy; he wanted Lissa's attention as much as I wanted Adrian's (although I wouldn't admit it so obviously to myself).
"Wait, there is more to the story," Selim said quickly. "This is the darker part as well."
Our attention turned back to him; we all clearly were riveted by Selim's words.
"Spirit users all have their individual affinities, which I'm sure you've discovered by now." Lissa and Adrian exchanged knowing looks. I knew how much Adrian was irked by the fact he couldn't raise the dead, and Lissa never ceased to ask me if I had seen her in my dreams. "Vera's power was foresight. She sees colors that she reads as fortunes. Two months ago, she saw a blood red flash."
"Are the colors like the colors of auras?" Adrian asked promptly.
Selim nodded. "Exactly. These colors represent outcomes. Any outcomes. For about a week, Vera was edgy. She wouldn't tell me what she thought about her vision, but I could tell it was eating away at her." Selim's face looked downcast. The story was coming to its most likely tragic climax.
"Go on," Mischa urged. Even she was hooked on Selim's words.
"One morning, I woke up and Vera was gone. She had just…vanished. I tried everything I could to find her too." Selim's voice caught. He didn't cry, but his eyes were wet and mournful. "I tried to contact a Spirit user who I knew was an expert in tracking. He didn't answer. I tried his cousin."
"Let me guess, he was also a Spirit user," Christian prompted.
Selim shook his head sadly. "No, he was an Earth affinity Moroi. But the man told me that his cousin had disappeared the week before."
"No," Lissa whispered quietly to herself. Her eyes were wide with shock. Her mind was turning as the puzzle pieces began to click together. All the meanwhile, my mind was also running over the clues.
"Spirit users are disappearing," I breathed, aghast.
Selim took a long swig of his vodka, answering my question. "Like cookies from a cookie jar, I might add," he said bitterly.
"How come no one has noticed?" I demanded feeling outraged. If people were simply disappearing from under our noses, how was it that no one was talking about it.
Lissa touched my arm gently. "Think about it, Rose. Spirit isn't as well known as it is within our school."
"She's right," Selim admitted. "No one can know about this. Our society isn't ready for the revelation of Spirit. A school, maybe. But not an entire population. Subsequently, no connections between the disappearances can be made other than the missing Moroi have turned to Strigoi." His green eyes burned with a frustration that you don't often see in alcoholics. I knew what he was thinking. No doubt it was killing him that his wife was being portrayed in the files as a betrayer to her race.
"I'm so sorry about Vera," Adrian said softlyh.
"It's in the past," Selim replied dismissively. "But at least you now see why you must keep this meeting a secret. It is a wonder that both of you are still safe, but for me, I would like to keep my location as hidden as possible."
"Does Amalia Rinaldi know about this?" Mischa asked.
"I'm assuming no. She believes I'm simply a V.I.P guest here for the booze and a free room for a couple weeks."
I laughed. "Somehow, you break the Ivashkov mold."
"And how many others from my family have you actually met?" Selim asked with a grin.
"Just Adrian, and he's plenty."
"So how do you know I break the mold?"
"I have a gut feeling." I patted my stomach jokingly. Adrian looked at me. Some expression flashed across his face, but it disappeared to that damn neutral mask of his before I could see it well.
Selim smiled gently. "It will save you sometime. I'm sure of it."
My eyebrow rose. He seemed confident in his words. Was it just words of support or something else.
"About Robert Doru," Mischa interrupted. "Could you please tell us where you hid him?" Her mood had lightened considerably, but I knew she was still smarting on the inside from Selim's dry humor.
"I guess I can tell you now." Selim beckoned her to come over. Mischa walked over hesitantly and knelt down she so was level with Selim. Suddenly, Selim had a pen out. He grabbed Mischa's arm and started to write.
"HEY!" Mischa shouted, pulling away, but Selim's grip seemed to be too much for Mischa to break.
"Hold still or you guys will be trekking across New York to find yourself in the boondocks," Selim commanded.
Mischa grumbled something unintelligible but stayed kneeling.
"Right now, I'm righting the directions to the Oaken Way Mental Rehabilitation Center to the south of New York City. I put Robert there for safekeeping," Selim told us.
"He's a nutjob then?" Christian wondered, his eyes drifting off as he imagined his fictitious Robert Doru.
Selim chuckled. "Well, the best of us are. Although I suppose Robert is just a tad better than the rest of us."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Adrian asked, frowning.
Selim gave him a meaningful stare. "Come on, cousin. I didn't give you that monologue for nothing."
"No effing way," Mischa yelled, her face contorted with skepticism.
"Number Two got it. I'm proud of you, Number Two," Selim applauded slowly.
"Doru is a Spirit user," I gasped, seeing the answer written on both of their faces.
"Bingo."
"Shit," I muttered. "And he went crazy?"
"Poor soul. If only we had gotten to him sooner," Selim mused. "He went crazy very quickly. Although I doubt a shadow kissed partner would do him any good." He winked at me. I froze. Now why was I even surprised that he knew I was shadow-kissed. He obviously knew everything else.
When we answered in silence his cryptic message in silence, Selim continued. "You'll see when you get there, but I'll tell you this. If you think I'm good, please feel free to jaw-drop in awe when you see him." With that, he stretched back out onto the couch. I could tell our audience with him was over. Mischa hurried back over to us, touching her grafittied arm angrily.
--
"I'm so sorry that I fell asleep!" Amalia apologized profusely. She beckoned us towards the the cab she had hailed for us. Although we really didn't need it, she insisted.
"It was no problem. We know a club owner's job can be very taxing," I said with fake sincerity. I opened the backseat door. Luckily, the cab was a minivan, so it could fit all five of us.
I pushed us in as fast as possible. For some reason, I was growing to dislike Amalia more and more. It was like that with Mia as well. But I was in no mood to go through a life changing friendship quest with her aunt. I said goodbye one last time before hopping into the front seat of the taxi and ordering the cabby to drive us to our hotel. The flaring lights of the Red Lips nightclub dimmed as we drove away through the heavy New York traffic.
--
Amalia watched the taxi drive out of sight before pulling out her cell phone.
She pressed #2 on her speed dial and pressed the ringing phone to her ear.
"Yes, they met with him," Amalia said over the receiver. "They're heading your way. Be ready." She snapped the phone shut. She sighed disdainfully and walked back inside.
[[A/N: I hope this extra-long chapter left you with more questions than answers. I was hopefully aiming for this.]]
[[2nd A/N: I'm not sure when I can update next. I'm border hopping for Spring Break so I'm not sure if I can squeeze in the time for fanfiction. But I have a feeling I'll have time on the airplane or something.]]
Reviews are appreciated and rewarded with balloons, cookies, and teddy bears. No, not really, but wouldn't that be great?